To The Sea, The Sea of Love
by RotatingWorld
Summary: 8 Callie/Arizona song drabbles.


**100 Yard Dash, Raphael Saadiq**

Arizona bent in half, hugging her arms around her calves, getting that good burn working up her backside – knees to glutes to lower back. The sun was fighting its way out today, but she wasn't going to miss the glow on the sidewalk or the minutes of warmth.

Flipping her music on, she took off at an easy jog, keeping to the inside of the path as it followed alongside the water. A day like today, the focus, the pull in her muscles - it was almost enough to take her mind off of Callie. Almost.

**Staple It Together, Jack Johnson**

Okay, so Callie was the first one to admit that her life was kind of in shambles. I mean, she had finally moved out of the hotel, gotten off the couch, and now she had a bed and new paisley sheets and no one to have sex with? Except Mark, of course, who didn't count. Actually, she had never slept with Mark in her bed. It just seemed too….personal. Like, you couldn't wake up next to Mark. That was just….ew.

He liked to drink these gross protein shakes every morning and Callie was pretty sure she would start to despise Mark if she was forced to sit there watching him drink one of those smelly, healthy drinks as he talked about egg whites and his weight lifting schedule. Gross.

No, Mark was an on-call room convenience. Like the tampon dispensers in the ladies room – you kind of forgot about it until you really, really needed it.

**Sea of Love, Cat Power**

Arizona had a habit of finding the shoreline wherever she lived. As a child, her father had taken her to the beach in the off-season to fly stunt kites, and she had never kicked that need. The expanse of empty sand. The strong breeze whipping against you. The fight to keep your kite up. The fast dive as it careened toward the ground, and the thrill of the turn, watching it slice the air in its ascent.

Callie was sitting in the back of the hatchback, trying to assemble her little nylon-and-plastic contraption, and not having much luck. Arizona could have helped, but well, it was too much fun to watch the frustration run itself so plainly across her girlfriend's face.

Yeah, she liked to fly kites.

**Main Offender, The Hives**

They were dancing the kind of dance where you forget where your arms start and end, whose thigh is pressed against your thigh, whose shirt you're tugging. But then again, it was just the two of them, going crazy in the living room, the stereo too loud.

Arizona grabbed at Callie's tee, pulled her back into her, and remembered why sometimes it was really, really good to go just a little crazy.

**Ocean and a Rock, Lisa Hannigan**

The trip was Callie's idea. She said she needed to get out of the hospital, with its nurses and doctors and ex-husbands and ex-fuckbuddies, and all of their various sick and underage girlfriends. She just wanted to go somewhere that had nothing to do with Seattle Grace Hospital.

So she chose Oregon, of all places. Oregon.

And as Arizona turned from her stomach onto her back on the thin blanket she had scrounged from the trunk, and looked up through the trees to the high, gauzy clowds, and heard Callie humming some stupid song a few feet away, she thought, "Yeah. This was exactly the right idea."

**This Place Is a Prison, The Postal Service**

She gripped the edge of the sink to keep herself steady and focused on breathing. This was her coping mechanism. And she knew it wasn't healthy – she should just walk home and take a shower and put herself to bed – but it was her habit now. It was as if she couldn't leave these people even if she wanted to.

She couldn't turn down the shot from Joe, she couldn't tell Lexie to just fuck off already, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the booth where George's interns were drilling each other with some of her old flashcards.

She turned the cold tap and flipped her hair out of the way. If she could just wake up a little, wake up and leave, then maybe she wouldn't hate herself so much the next day.

Arizona slid her way off the stool, reapplied her Chapstick, and headed toward the ladies room.

**Lloyd, I'm Ready to be Heartbroken, Camera Obscura**

Arizona wasn't stupid. She knew Callie was bound to break her heart and break it hard. But Arizona, well, Arizona was a sucker for love. The whole messy thing. The make-you-breakfast kind of love. The pick-up-your-dirty-tissues-when-you're-sick kind of love. The buy-sexy-underwear kind of love. The whole shebang. She was in.

**Songs of Love, Ben Folds**

Saturday off, and Callie had taken herself out for the morning. Christina and Owen were being all disgusting in the apartment, and she just, you know, didn't need their sick, sappy dysfunction. The café a few blocks away had killer pie. Saturdays, especially the Saturdays following a crappy week like the crappy week Callie had had, called for pie for breakfast.

A few tables over, Arizona finished the last page of the Health section and re-folded the paper. She would leave it for the next patron. Taking the last sip of her coffee, something caught her eye. A familiar figure, not in her lab coat this time around, but that mane of hair was unmistakable. It was Dr. Torres from Ortho, eating a slice of what looked like cherry pie.

That's when Arizona fell.


End file.
